


Crossing the Rubicon

by melian225



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Community: HPFT, Gen, Potterwatch, Resistance, Second War with Voldemort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-07 01:12:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11048199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melian225/pseuds/melian225
Summary: Frustrated with the lack of reliable information coming out of the media during Voldemort's reign, Lee Jordan decides he wants to do something about it.Written for HPFT's Person of Colour Challenge





	Crossing the Rubicon

Lee Jordan was flicking through the _Daily Prophet_. “This is drivel, man,” he said to no one in particular. “Can’t believe a word of it.”

His father looked up at him. “What’s wrong, Lee?”

Lee threw the newspaper across the room. “That. The bloody _Prophet_. Pandering to You-Know-Who and they’re not even trying to hide it anymore.” He spat on the ground. “Search parties for Harry Potter, not because they’re worried if he’s okay but because they want to send him to Azkaban. People snatching kids off the streets because they think they should be in school. Muggle-born registrations! It’s rubbish, Dad, and no one’s calling them up on it!”

Cecil Jordan sighed. “You know there’s a reason for that.”

Lee looked up. “What?”

“Well, what do you think happens to those who do question things? You think they’d leave you alone if you complained?”

Lee was silent for a moment. The air was thick and he felt stifled.

“We’re living in a dictatorship at the moment, Lee. If you question the regime, they’ll get rid of you. It’s happened before and it’ll happen again.”

“But Harry …”

Cecil looked grave. “What about Harry?”

“He’ll fix things,” Lee said staunchly. “He’ll take them down.”

His father shook his head. “Harry Potter is at best a figurehead. He’s a child still. How old is he? Seventeen? How much impact do you really think a seventeen year old can have?”

“Well then, why are they looking so hard for him?”

“ _Because_ he’s a figurehead. Because he’s at large. Because, due to those two things, they see him as a threat.” Cecil shook his head. “I hate to disappoint you, son, but I don’t believe even Harry Potter can make much difference. You-Know-Who is probably impossible to kill by now. And that means you’d better get used to him. We’re stuck with him forever.”

****

“It’s ridiculous.” Lee was leaning against the counter of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, trying not to look at the place where George’s left ear used to be. “And the WWN’s just as bad. No one has a clue what’s really going on anymore.”

George looked quickly around the shop, checking who was in there. “Except us,” he said quietly.

Lee’s ears pricked up. “What? What do you know that the rest of us don’t?”

George just tapped his nose and smiled. “Meet me upstairs at closing time. We’ll talk. But not here. The walls probably have ears.”

Lee took a look around the shop and nodded. He _thought_ he could vouch for just about everyone there, but then how could you be sure about anyone these days? Besides, it was a shop – people were coming and going all the time. “Yeah, probably.”

He spent the intervening hours wandering around Diagon Alley. He would have liked to stop for an ice cream at Florean Fortescue’s, but that had been empty for a while and was now boarded up. Similarly, Quality Quidditch Supplies had ceased operation, and Ollivander’s was of course closed since the wandmaker had disappeared at the same time as Fortescue. Unlike some people he knew, Lee was sure Ollivander hadn’t gone willingly, but he understood others’ suspicions. He hadn’t been an easy man to like.

It was also getting much more difficult to dodge the stall-holders, and the beggars. The stall-holders Lee had little time for, but the beggars gave him more pause. He’d tried to help some in weeks past, recognising Eddie Carmichael from school, now resorting to standing on the street begging for food. Eddie was a Muggle-born, Lee knew, and since his wand had been confiscated he had no way of helping himself. And he’d been immersed in the magical world for so long he’d had trouble assimilating back into Muggle society. Lee knew this because Eddie had told him.

The trouble was, once he started talking to one of the beggars, they had all flooded him, perhaps seeing him as an easy mark. He wanted to help them. He wanted to do something. But he hadn’t yet figured out what, or when, or even how. Hopefully Fred and George could help.

Finally, after wasting as much time as he could outdoors, he headed for the Leaky Cauldron. Even the pub wasn’t as welcoming as it had always been; Tom was looking haggard these days, barely troubling to break up the inevitable fights that broke out between Death Eater supporters and those with a heart. At least, that was how Lee saw it. He didn’t say it aloud, though: he may have been a Gryffindor, but he wasn’t stupid. He wouldn’t be able to help anyone from a cell in Azkaban.

At closing time, he was back at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, Fred ushering him through the door at the same time as their hired help, Verity, was leaving.

“Anyone see you come in?” Fred asked as he closed the door.

Lee shook his head. “Just Verity. I didn’t even tell Tom why I was hanging around.”

Fred nodded. “Just as well. Come on upstairs!”

Fred and George lived in a small flat above the shop, jam packed with boxes of products, prototypes and a large board on one wall that seemed to be where they jotted down any new ideas. Lee had been there a few times before, but not since the Death Eaters had taken over the Ministry. The very fact of their ascension meant most people were less likely to be seen out and about.

He made himself comfortable on the sofa and George grinned at him. “You can talk freely here,” he said. “The place has been fully checked over by the Order more times than I can count.”

Lee’s ears pricked up. “The Order?”

“Order of the Phoenix,” Fred said. He’d perched himself at the other end of the sofa, leaning heavily on the arm. “You’ve heard of it, of course.”

Lee nodded. Of course he had. It was top of the list of banned organisations, with the promise of Azkaban for anyone caught even associating with a member. Suddenly, he realised what George’s comment must mean.

“You two are part of it?”

“Course we are.” Fred puffed out his chest. “It’s the best way to keep track of what’s happening, and how to help out.”

“That’s what I want to do,” Lee said. “Help. But I don’t know how.”

George tapped the board on the wall with his wand, and the ideas and plans for new joke shop products started to make way for something altogether more serious. His eyes straining to make sense of the moving words, Lee caught phrases like “Harry’s whereabouts”, “Known Death Eaters” and “Notes on the prophecy”. When the board finally settled he was under no illusions whatsoever that he was witnessing notes and plans made by the Order itself.

“We know a bit about what’s going on,” Fred said. “Harry’s in hiding, obviously. He was at Grimmauld Place for a while, but we have reason to believe he’s vacated there now.”

Lee was baffled. “What’s Grimmauld Place?”

“Oh, sorry, forgot you wouldn’t know that,” George said with a grin, sitting on the arm of a chair next to the board. “Ancestral home of the Black family. Used to be main headquarters for the Order. It belonged to Sirius before he died; he willed it to Harry.”

Lee’s head was spinning. “Sirius Black?”

George cocked an eyebrow. “We don’t know of any other Siriuses, do we?”

“Well, yeah, but …”

Fred took pity on him. “Remember the year Umbridge took over Hogwarts, when we couldn’t tell you where we were staying?”

Lee nodded.

“Well, we were at Order headquarters then. Sirius was there, in hiding, and the other Order members came and went. We weren’t members then so we didn’t officially know much, but the Extendable Ears got us quite a bit of info. We were allowed to live there to help clean it up, and to keep Sirius company.” Fred made a face, his eyes on nothing in particular. “Horrible place, it was. House elves’ heads mounted on the wall, a troll’s foot as an umbrella stand …” He got up and foraged around in a cupboard in the kitchen.

“And don’t forget Mrs Black,” George added. “Left her portrait on the wall and it yelled obscenities at anyone who disturbed her. Seriously deranged woman. No wonder Sirius left when he did.”

Lee was trying to take it all in. “You lived at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix??? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Weren’t allowed to, mate,” George said brusquely. “If anyone got word that we’d been telling that sort of secret, we would have been pulled out of there before you could say Umbridge.”

“Not that we would have minded going,” Fred put in, coming back to the sofa with a plate heaped with cakes and slices and setting it on the coffee table. Their mother was obviously keeping them well fed, even if they weren’t living at home. “But Dumbledore told us it would be risking Sirius’ life, and we didn’t want to do that. Good bloke, Sirius.”

Lee was shaking his head. “I can’t believe you were living in Sirius Black’s house, headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, and you never told me. Not even when it was all over.”

Fred held his gaze. “Sirius _died_ , mate. We didn’t exactly feel like talking about it.”

“And besides, we had the shop to set up,” George added. “It’s not like there weren’t plenty of other things to talk about.”

“But, we’re talking now,” Fred went on. “Better than nothing, right?”

Lee grinned and helped himself to a slice of cake. It was rich and creamy and felt like it was still warm from the oven, though he had no idea how that could be the case. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

“So,” George said, “you were complaining about the _Prophet_ , our daily lack-of-news-paper.”

“Sounds about right,” Lee said with his mouth full. He hastily swallowed before continuing. “It’s ridiculous. And the WWN isn’t any better. I mean, no wonder people are scared. There’s no way of finding out what’s actually happening.”

“And do you have any bright ideas on how to fix that?” Fred asked.

“Unfortunately not,” Lee said, his face dropping. “I mean, it’s not like I can drop into WWN and just hijack one of their shows, is it?”

“Would you know how to?” George asked. “Use the equipment, that is?”

Lee nodded. “I’ve dabbled a bit,” he said. “It’s not hard once you get the hang of it.”

Fred looked serious as he reached for a treacle tart. “Radio? You think that’s the way to do it?”

George frowned. “It’s not a bad idea,” he said. “More accessible to a lot of people. Hardly anyone gets the _Prophet_ anymore, and while Xeno Lovegood’s a decent alternative, even he has his limits on what he’s prepared to write.”

“Of course, they’ve been threatening him,” Fred added, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Kingsley said he’s been getting death threats based on what he’s printing.”

Lee wondered who Kingsley was, but before he could ask George was talking. “Good old Xeno, though. He keeps doing what he’s doing. Not much fazes him.”

“There are risks with the printed word, though,” Fred went on. “A permanent record of what you’ve said and the like. If the wrong people stay in power, they can track you down years after the fact and put you on trial.”

“Or not,” George said. “From what I hear, trials aren’t really their thing, if you know what I mean.”

Lee nodded. “That’s what Dad was saying, pretty much. No one’s standing up to them because they don’t want to end up in Azkaban.”

Fred was looking thoughtful. “There are ways, though,” he said, looking at George. “Remember what Mad-Eye was saying over the summer?”

“Mad-Eye MOODY?” Lee asked in surprise. This was getting more and more surreal by the minute.

“Yeah,” George said, waving a hand impatiently. “Another good bloke gone too soon.” He scrunched up his face. “What was he saying? Remind me, Fred.”

“He said that people will want to know the truth, but won’t know how to find it.”

Lee rolled his eyes. “Well, duh. I could have told you that.” He looked at George. “I _did_ tell you that.”

“And then,” Fred said loudly, “he said that it would be up to those who did know to find a way to impart that information.” He turned to George. “ _We_ know, mate. We should be sharing it.”

“But how?” Lee asked.

George smiled at him and reached for a slice of cake. “You said it, mate. Radio. We’ll run a pirate radio show.”

“Radio from the Resistance,” Fred said with a grin. “It’s alliterative, if nothing else.”

Lee laughed. “Well, I guess we have proven you two like alliteration,” he said, gesturing to all the Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes merchandise around the room.

“Not catchy, though,” George said. “What is it everyone wants to know about?”

“Well, that’s easy,” Lee said. “What Harry’s up to.”

“Hmmm.” Fred was plainly thinking hard. “The Potter Papers? Harry’s Herald?”

“You can go a bit far with the alliteration, mate,” Lee said with a grin. “What about something simpler, that rolls off the tongue?”

“All right, then, smarty pants, you think of one,” Fred said.

“Potter news? No! I’ve got it!” Lee punched the air. “Potterwatch!”

George raised an appreciative eyebrow. “Nice.” Lee gave him a satisfied smile and nodded.

George stood up and tapped the board again with his wand, then started scribbling notes on it. _Potterwatch_ , said the heading. “We’ll need some extra security, given the circumstances,” he said, writing _Security ideas_ underneath. “Password protected, that sort of thing.”

“Yeah, we’ll have to rely on word of mouth to advertise,” Fred said. “It’s not like we can put pamphlets in with Wheezes purchases, is it?”

The notes on the board multiplied exponentially. _Password ideas_ soon had a bunch of names beneath it – all Order members, Lee realised. And all dead.

“That way we don’t risk anyone who’s currently working in the Resistance, dummy,” Fred chastised him when he mentioned it.

_Different time and day each week_ and _Different recording location_ came up next. That was George’s idea, to move it around, so that if one location became compromised they wouldn’t have to close up shop.

“I had no idea this would be so involved,” Lee admitted as Fred wrote _Code names for presenters_ on the board. “I was about to ask if all this was really necessary, but then …”

“But then you realised that you kind of like staying alive,” Fred said sardonically. “Yeah. Us too.”

George looked stumped at the code name heading. “What can we call each other that doesn’t make it blatantly obvious who we are?”

Fred grinned. “Alliteration, my friend.”                  

“With what, though?”

“We’ll all have code names that start with the same letter. Maybe P, to go with Potterwatch?”

Lee shook his head. “Let’s break it up a bit. Go down the alphabet or something.” He considered that, and screwed up his nose. “Not Q, there aren’t enough options. How about R? It goes with your first idea of Resistance Radio? I’ll be River, as in the River Jordan.”

George laughed. “I thought we were making it NOT blatantly obvious who we are?”

Lee just shrugged. “I think they’d probably figure it out anyway, to be honest.”

Fred frowned. “These are Death Eaters, people. Not a single original thought between them. I reckon that so long as we don’t use our real names, we’re probably going to be okay.”

George looked doubtful, but finally nodded. “I’ll send an owl to Kingsley, see what he thinks. If he’s on board, I say go ahead and do it.”

Lee nodded. Kingsley must be some kind of bigwig in the Order, he surmised.

George looked at Lee again. “You’re sure you have the equipment?”

“I said I could use it, man. Not that I had it.”

His friend sat down again, deflated. “Well, that puts a spanner in the works.”

“We can get our hands on it,” Fred said quickly. “We’ll figure out a way.” He looked at his brother and winked. “We always do.”

****

Two days later, Lee got an owl from George. _Heard from Kingsley_ , it read. _Got the all clear. Can start tonight if you’re ready._

He looked at the _Daily Prophet_ in front of him. Despite its shortcomings, his father still liked to have the thing delivered every day. “Good to know what the enemy is thinking,” he would say. And besides, he liked doing the crossword.

Today’s headline was _BREAKTHROUGH IN THE SEARCH FOR POTTER_ , with a subheading of _War criminal’s days on the run numbered_. Lee was, as usual, sceptical. The _Prophet_ wanted people to think Harry was going to be captured, but he’d not heard anything to indicate they were making any progress in their hunt for him.

His jaw set, Lee found a quill and ink and scrawled a note back to George. _I’m ready._ And he was.

Fred, true to his word, had managed to find some spare broadcasting equipment and a Muggle community centre that was quiet enough, and had closed for the night. Lee Apparated there two hours before airtime, as he’d been instructed. “Just need to make sure it’s all working right,” Fred had said to him via Floo that afternoon, and Lee had agreed with him. This was too important to screw up.

“Now, you’re sure about this?” George asked almost as soon as Lee appeared. “Because once you start with something like this, there’s no going back. You can’t be an ordinary bystander anymore. You’re part of the resistance.”

Lee puffed out his chest. “Good. Because that’s what I want to be.”

Half an hour later, after the Heating Charms they’d used on the room had kicked in, Remus Lupin arrived. Lee remembered him from fifth year, when he’d been their Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. He remembered, too, that Lupin was a werewolf and involuntarily looked outside to check the moon’s position.

Lupin noticed the gesture and laughed. “Don’t worry,” he said. “The full moon was last week. You’re quite safe.”

“Right.” Lee felt pretty bad now, but Lupin just smiled.

“It’s fine, Lee. Everyone does that.” He fiddled with a ring on his left hand, as though he wasn’t used to wearing it. “How’s the setup going?”

Lee grinned, more in his element now. “First test was good. Everything works, and Fred and George have managed to figure out a few frequencies that aren’t being used.”

“Very pleased to hear it.” Lupin put a rather threadbare coat on a chair in the corner and headed for the kitchenette, probably to boil the kettle for tea.

A minute later he was joined by a tall black man who exuded calm and competence. “Keeping well, Remus?” he asked easily, before being steered towards Lee for an introduction.

“Kingsley, this is Lee Jordan,” Fred said with a grin. “Lee’s our radio guru, who’s in charge of all the technical stuff today. Lee, Kingsley’s an Auror with the Ministry. He’s currently on loan to the Muggle Prime Minister as security, but he’s keeping tabs on the Aurors too. Apparently they are doing their best _not_ to search for Harry at the moment.”

Kingsley’s eyes glinted. “There was a reputable source who reported sighting Harry in Sumatra last week,” he said. “They’re going to be using up quite a few man hours investigating that before it fizzles out.”

Lee laughed. He liked this man already. “I’ll be River on the broadcast,” he said. “What name did you want?”

George answered for him. “Kingsley’s Royal,” he called out over the boiling kettle he and Lupin were fussing around. “And Lupin will be Romulus.”

Lee caught the reference and laughed as George and Lupin joined them, steaming mugs in hand, and handed one to each of them. “Nice. Now, since you’re all here, I’ve been thinking about the order of the broadcast, and came up with some ideas.”

Lupin, Kingsley and the twins looked at him seriously, Fred with a quill and parchment in front of him to take notes.

“Start off with basic introductions and news that’s not making the Prophet. You know, disappearances, a moment of silence – maybe not a minute though – for those who have died, that sort of thing.” A chorus of nods surrounded him. “And after that – I don’t know. Updates on Harry and anyone connected to him? The resistance, so to speak? And – uh – tips on how to do some resisting of your own. And …” Here he paused, not sure how to word it. “Maybe something on how we can help the Muggle-borns who have lost their wands? Taking them in, or feeding them, or whatever?”

“I like it,” Kingsley said. “Working with the Muggles, I can give some insights on how this is affecting their lives as well.”

Lee whistled softly. “That sounds really interesting,” he said.

Kingsley nodded. “I can talk about helping the Muggle-borns as well, if it’s important to you. Muggles, Muggle-borns – they’re all people, and they are all worthy of our assistance.”

“I can do the resistance stuff,” Lupin said. “I think I’m pretty much up to date with everyone, but my overall knowledge might be a little sketchy.”

George grinned. “I can give you some notes on that,” he said.

Lee looked at him, surprised. “Then what are you going to be talking about?”

George shook his head. “Nothing, mate. I’m not part of this. I’ve got a date tonight. Gotta go in about ten minutes.”

Lee turned to Fred, dismayed that George wouldn’t be part of the program. “You don’t have a date, too, do you?”

Fred looked serious. “No, but I’m not sure I should be part of the actual broadcast yet. People are more likely to pick your voice if mine is there with it, for example. Singularly, we’re less identifiable. Together, we’re much easier to pick.”

Lupin nodded. “He’s got a point, given how close you were at school. Fred, you can be in charge of production. What the password is, when we’re on air, that sort of thing. Lee here can do the technical work, but you can do the rest.”

Lee saw the wisdom in that. “Yeah, fair enough. So that’s the three of us, then,” he said, looking at Kingsley and then Lupin. “With all these notes we’ve got between us, I think it’ll be enough of a show.”

****

Lee flicked the last switch and grinned. “I think that went pretty well, don’t you?”

Kingsley gave him a broad smile. “A few minor teething issues, but yes, I think it did.” Lee made a face – he knew he’d stumbled over a few of the segments and there had been more than one instance of dead air where none of them were saying anything. They needed to improve.

Kingsley seemed to notice his frustration. “Don’t fret so much, Lee. For a first effort I think it was excellent. And we’ve now given out the next password so if anyone did happen to find us, they’ll be able to listen in again next time.”

“You’re a natural host,” Lupin said as he picked up their mugs and took them back to the kitchenette. “I’m glad we’ve got you on board.”

Fred looked serious as he relaxed the wards he’d put up to protect them during the production. “Do you think anyone did happen to find us?”

He was answered by a tapping at the window and looked up to see an owl, with a scrolled parchment tied to its left leg. Grinning, he opened the window and extracted the message.

“ _What a wonderful program_ ,” he read aloud. “ _Won’t say more now, but I can’t wait till the next one._ ” He looked up. “It’s unsigned, but it seems like at least one person was listening.”

Another owl swooped in through the now-open window and landed on Lupin’s shoulder. “Looks like more than one,” he said wryly, unfastening the parchment expertly. “Yep, same type of thing. _Thank goodness someone out there has the guts to tell us the truth_ , this one says.”

Lee breathed a sigh of relief. “We did it, folks,” he said, his eyes shining with excitement. “We did it. We’ve found a way to tell the truth.” He grinned, excited by this new project, and by the idea of getting one past the Ministry. “Oh boy,” he said almost as an afterthought. “The Ministry is going to be SO pissed off.”


End file.
